


Idle Conversations of Theory

by ALC_Punk



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALC_Punk/pseuds/ALC_Punk
Summary: Root and Shaw in a random conversation during a bar stop. Written for a land comm ages ago.





	Idle Conversations of Theory

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for, Womenverse, I think? It was inspired by this prompt. http://s123.photobucket.com/user/xSapphire2309/media/Landcomm%20stuff/splash_zps704ae0b4.jpg.html, splashing wine glasses

"Have you ever thought about how different the world would be if there were no free will?"

The words were idle and if one were wise, ignorable. Sam Shaw did the latter, focusing on the rather mediocre red wine in her glass. It wasn't that she was the biggest fan of reds, really. But it was the best the bar had to offer that wasn't top shelf and far above her current pay grade.

Next to her, leaning a little to the side and rubbing the edge of her finger along her wine glass, Root seemed terribly absorbed in her idle words. Or possibly drunk.

It had been that sort of day.

Not that Shaw wasn't used to being on her feet, but the forced smiling at customers and the damned heels! It was enough to make her think seriously about corporate America's dress code policies. Then again, she supposed it could be worse.

An almost happy smile crossed her lips as she remembered her brief glimpse of Reese.

She had to admit it was close to their former occupation; it was just that the garbage he took out now tended to be a lot smellier than the previous type. Not quite as good as Reese-the-Barista would have been, though. The smile slid away and she stared at her half-empty glass and tried not to plan exactly how she would start a fight in the bar.

It wouldn't be hard: one of the men two stools over was too drunk to know what he was doing, and he'd been ogling her since he sat down. Behind him were a couple in the midst of the sort of quiet, intense argument that never went anywhere good (she'd always disliked the complications of an actual relationship; the sex was never worth the huffiness and hurt looks when you forgot to call).

And then there was the blonde in the booth near the back. She wasn't very interesting to look, and Shaw supposed that was the point.

"Don't look," Root murmured suddenly, then leaned sideways and bumped Shaw's shoulder. "Are you still mad about that blind date?"

"You told me he was your cousin." It should have worried her how easy she could fall into Root's conversational strategies, but Shaw rather appreciated something that kept her on her toes. "And you promised he wasn't hairy, like the last one."

"I thought you liked a little scruff."

"Not when I would need a razor just to find his dick in the forest."

Root huffed out something that was almost a giggle. "Please tell me you didn't say that to his face? Aunt Marie will never speak to me again."

Lifting her glass, Shaw took a long sip. She was enjoying this suddenly more entertaining fake life. The suspense was probably not killing Root. Sadly. With a shrug, she replied, "I don't kiss and tell, remember?"

"You are such a prude," Root scoffed, elbowing her again.

It was enough, and Shaw let the momentum of the movement fling her wine glass sideways. There was a rather nice splatter effect as it smashed against the bar and stained the white shirt of the Mr. Leer. He yelped and jerked backwards, lost his balance and crashed into the arguing couple.

Shaw jumped up off her stool, hands fluttering, "Oh! I'm so sorry, here, let me--do you have a towel or tissue?"

"What the hell?" The man stopped arguing with his girlfriend and shoved Mr. Leer. "Dude, watch the fuck where you're going!"

The shove sent the man back towards Shaw, and she awkwardly tried to get out of the man's way and only succeeded in sending him sprawling into a different table (leverage was an amazing thing). She considered making a yelping noise, but decided it would sound as fake as the surprise she was trying to keep on her face.

From the table, the drunk pushed himself back to his feet and started yelling at the other man.

It was all other patrons needed to jump to their feet or leave, quietly slipping away from the oncoming argument.

Root's hand caught Shaw's elbow, and she tugged, "C'mon, this isn't looking so healthy. Besides, I promised Meg we'd meet her at Cadin's."

Leaving was easy; Shaw had no interest in getting anyone's attention, least of all the blonde who was still sitting at her table, observing without looking as though she was.

Outside, they linked arms and almost _skipped_ on to their next destination.

Occasionally, Shaw could feel the tension in Root, but she waited to murmur, "Get it?"

Root's almost imperceptible nod almost made the cheap wine and dull evening worth it.


End file.
